Forgiveness
by Gaia Faye
Summary: Acceptance is not the same as forgiveness. Letting go is never easy. And going back is always dangerous. Starring James, Laura, and a woman named Kate. Post SH2 'Leave' ending.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Silent Hill 2 or any of its characters. I do own this particular fiction and the original characters therein, and blah de blah de blah and so on and so forth.

**Author's Notes:** This is the fic that I had originally intended to be my first Silent Hill fic, but other stories (chiefly SH4) came to completion sooner. Impaired is going to remain my main focus since I started it first, but I have been working on this one for a while and will continue to do so. So, anyhow, this is an SH2 fic, a sequel really, post the 'Leave' ending. I'm doing my best to keep people in character, so I hope I've achieved that.

Also, this fic will reveal itself to be AU later on, because of the state of Silent Hill. I tried to write it differently, but it didn't turn out as well at all, so, well, buh. Please read.

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C H A P T E R - O N E

She wasn't sure how long _It_ had been calling to her, but she knew that she still did not want to go. If she went, she didn't know what would happen.

She hadn't done what she was meant to. Well, that could be argued. She'd certainly done all she could, and it certainly had almost worked. But almost was not complete. He, in the end, hadn't given in to his guilt or to his wants. He had been lost, and so had she.

James…

Perhaps it was the convincing facsimile of humanity she had been given, but she wanted him. She wanted him badly, even though her time as a human was long over. That taste of earthly existence and the desires that came with it had tainted her forever.

Maybe that was why she was afraid to go back to _It_. She would lose this aching feeling inside and gain a place with the whole. But how could she do that? It felt too important to just forget about. And in the whole, she would never have this intense need. She wouldn't have anything. She knew that, since she couldn't remember anything before awaking in Heaven's Night. All the memories _It_ had given her had been taken away ever since her fall at James' hands. It was frightening to realize that she had no real identity.

So long she had been here, completely alone. So long.

(_"I don't have any reason to go on living, but… But I'm scared to die. I'm so afraid of pain."_)

She was so afraid. So afraid that she was beginning to feel angry. How could _It_ do this to her? How could _It_ give her life and then just expect her to give it back? After all _It_ had put her through? Three times _It_ had brought her death and the pain that went with it without any concern for her. All _It_ cared about was James.

James… James… James.

(_"I don't like being alone…"_)

All because of _It_, she had lost James. James didn't want her because of _It_. Because of what _It_ made her do. James had killed her.

The anger built up; all the rage that had before been drowning in her suffocating misery and fear bubbled together, and everything else was consumed. Consumed and changed to a fuel or a catalyst and it was like she was screaming, screaming, screaming and reaching out. Reaching out to take like she had been taken from. No, no, not just that, but more. More! She tore at _It_; the ribbons ripped away and fell over her. Then she snatched at the shreds, pulling it all down. She took and took and _It_ didn't know what to do.

_It_ finally struck out, but her anger only consumed the blow. _It_ enveloped her, tried to force her to come back, but she viciously latched onto _It_, forcing _It_ to become a part of her. _It_ pulled itself away.

And as _It_ withdrew from her, as she felt herself grow to match _It_, she became aware of the cold floor beneath her. She drew in a deep breath, and the sound echoed in the vast room. The vast room atop the Lake View Hotel that didn't exist.

Maria opened her eyes. Her painted lips parted, and she breathed one word.

"James."

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On to Chapter Two, if you please.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own SH2 or the characters. Like you couldn't tell.

**Author's Notes:** And so we move on to the second chapter. (By the way, have you seen Goblet of Fire yet? No? Move yo' ass!)

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C H A P T E R - T W O

The house in North Ashfield was small, but there was a charm about it that Mary had absolutely loved. He remembered clasping hands with his wife as they followed the realtor inside and looking skeptically around the place, which the realtor was insisting was 'cozy' in his sales pitch. He looked over at Mary, who he saw wasn't even listening. Her bright eyes appraised all she could see, and after the brief tour of the one-story residence, she smiled at her husband. "Oh, James!" she had exclaimed with utmost pleasure. With the hand that wasn't entwined with his, she smoothed her fingers across the shiny edge of the sink. "I love it! It's absolutely perfect!" James remembered shrugging at the pleased realtor and saying, "We'll take it."

Years later, after the trial of her disease, after his ordeal in Silent Hill where he accepted that he had smothered her with a pillow, James Sunderland stepped into the same house.

Physically, he had changed little. His face may have been worn with age, but he was still young-- in his mid-thirties-- so there was no remarkable difference. Even his hairstyle was the same due to his own preference, though the dirty blonde strands were short from being recently cut. As for mentally and emotionally, well… Obviously he did not come away from the dark town without having learned anything. Most importantly, however, he was able to strike out in life again instead of drowning himself in the misery that had slowly consumed him over the progression of Mary's disease. This is not to say he was over her loss. It was impossible to completely move on after losing the woman you would give your life for without a thought, a quality he had demonstrated by going through an experience akin to Hell itself. True love will do that to you. And if you don't believe in true love, you are just bitterer than the rest of us at not having the great amount of luck it takes to find it.

"Laura?" James called out. He rested a white box on the table and tossed his wallet and keys beside it.

"Eh?" The blonde girl entered the kitchen from the living room. Being quite young when James first met her, over the following five years she had predictably changed much. She was still quite spindly, but was now nearly five feet tall. As James preferred to leave his hair as he'd always kept it, she preferred to have hers shorn to just below her ears. A number of things had definitely not changed, like the ease with which her mouth quirked up into an amused smirk or the dull blonde of her hair or her piercing blue eyes.

Before Laura let the swinging door close behind her he caught a glimpse of the television's flickering light. "Oh, hey! How was work?" Her voice had matured slightly, but it easily regressed into a teasing childishness when she chose.

"Fine," James said, fixing her with a stern glare. "I hope you finished your homework before turning on that TV."

She shot him a flashy grin. "C'mon, James! It's Friday, remember? Don't I ever get a break from you? Even on my birthday?"

He shook his head-- but he couldn't help smiling back at her-- and flipped open the white box. "Happy Birthday." He lifted out a small round cake. Beneath the vanilla icing was fluffy chocolate, and on its top in ornate blue letters, it proclaimed, 'Happy 13th Birthday, Laura.'

"Mmm!" Laura licked her lips as James set the cake on the table. "Looks tasty."

"Well, don't spoil your dinner," James replied. He fished around the junk drawer for matches and candles. "Where did you and your friends decide to go?"

"Antonio's in the mall." Laura smiled overly sweetly at him again. "You said you'd pay, right?"

He smiled wryly. "Yes, the Bank of James will be giving you enough for the pizza, drinks, and ice cream."

"And the arcade?"

He sighed. "Yeah, sure."

"You're a real sweetie," Laura laughed. She took in a breath as if she was going to say something else, but she stopped and coughed nervously.

James said nothing as he lit the candles. He knew to what she was likely going to refer. A fragment of an old letter, which Laura probably had stashed somewhere in her room, came back to him.

(…_ I know he seems surly, but underneath he's a really sweet person…_)

"Well, start singing, buddy!" Laura chimed.

James blinked. He hadn't realized that he'd been staring at the cake. All thirteen candles were lit. He looked up at her nervously. "Do I have to sing?"

"Yes. Same as last year," she replied with a deceptively angelic smile.

He sighed and did his best, which wasn't horrible, but wasn't all that great either. After he finished, shaking his head at how pleased she was to embarrass him as usual, he set about cutting each of them a good slice.

"What about my dinner?" she giggled when he presented her a hunk of chocolate goodness.

"Shut up," he laughed, putting the icing-slicked knife in the sink. "Oh!" he exclaimed as he remembered. "Your present."

"It's in your closet on the top shelf," she helpfully reminded him.

He shot her a look, but she only returned it with an exaggerated grin. He retrieved the gift and returned to the kitchen. He set it in front of Laura, who was halfway done her cake, before sitting down and starting on his own slice.

"Goodie!" Laura dropped her fork onto the table and tore off the wrapping paper. She flipped open the top. Letting out a little gasp of pleasure, she pulled a fluffy bear out of the box. It was tan and plush, and it wore a blue baseball cap on its head. "I thought you said I was getting old for stuffed animals?"

James shrugged and swallowed a masticated clump of cake. "Well, I know you like them. Plus I got you something else," he said, pointing at the box with his fork.

She looked in again and pulled out a small envelope. She opened it and found a gift card for the mall. "Awesome!" she exclaimed, bouncing out of her chair and briefly wrapping her arms around James' neck. "Thanks!"

James blushed a bit. "You're welcome."

She sat down again and held the bear out in front of her. She examined it for a moment, then took the cap and replaced it so it was backwards on the animal's head. "That's better," she said, not necessarily to anyone. "Very cool."

James couldn't stop his grin. "Oh, yeah, very."

She considered the bear for a moment longer, now thoughtful. "You know, he kinda reminds me of Eddie."

James coughed so he wouldn't choke on his food. "Who?"

"You know! Eddie! That fat guy." She gave him a strange look, then returned her gaze to the bear. "I guess I should name him that."

"Ah… Are you sure?"

"What's wrong with Eddie?"

"Um… nothing, I guess." Except maybe that he was dead, James thought guiltily, and kept his eyes on his plate.

"That's what I'm calling him. But it'll be Ed for short."

"Great."

"Whatever happened to Eddie anyway?"

James looked up at the clock on the wall. "When did you say we were supposed to pick up your friends?"

"Huh?" Laura looked up to see the time also. "Oh, crap! I only have a half hour to get ready!" She hurried off to her room.

James finished his cake and put the plate and fork into the sink. He crumpled up the torn wrapping paper and tossed it into the trash can, and then set the box aside to put back in the attic later. And then there was the bear.

(_"Don't get all holy on me, James. This town called you, too."_)

"Self-defense," he reminded himself. He looked away from the cuddly thing and grimaced. "I just had to pick the one with the hat."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

The black sedan idled outside of a home on the other side of North Ashfield from James and Laura's small abode. While Ashfield as a whole was considered a medium-sized city, it was South Ashfield that held all the businesses, restaurants, night spots, hotels, museums, and the high school. The northern half had a more squashed suburban feel. It had the elementary and middle schools, and in terms of residency there was the occasional apartment complex, but mostly it held small houses and narrow duplexes with tiny yards. It was outside one of the petite houses that the car waited.

Inside the car were James in the driver's seat, Laura as the front passenger, and three of her friends chirruping in the back. James had traded in his old junk-mobile not long after returning from Silent Hill.

When Emily, the last girl to be picked up, came out of the house, she was rolling her eyes because her mom was following her. She sighed when her mother hugged her once they reached the curb and crammed herself into the backseat with the three other girls. Her mother leaned down by the driver's side window, and James did his best to smile.

"Hey, Kate," he greeted. One of the girls in the car giggled.

"Nice to see you, James," she replied with a hint of shy flirtation. A lock of her long red hair fell over her face, and she pushed it back into place.

His face felt warm. "You sure you're okay with having the sleepover here?"

She smiled and laughed, and she gave him all of her attention with her eager blue eyes. "It's no problem. Laura told me how cramped your place would be with five teenage girls in there."

"Yeah. I really appreciate it."

"You know," she said, and she leaned closer in so her face was inside the car now, "I'm sure with some rearranging that a small house like yours could be more spacious. If you want, I could, uh, help you out with it some time."

Before James could utter a doltish, stuttering reply to what was, at its core, obviously not an invitation to rearrange his furniture, except maybe in some bizarre metaphorical sense, Laura spoke up with a practiced, forced exuberance. "Ms. Brewett!" she said loudly. "Would you mind taking my bag into the house so I don't have to carry it around the mall?" She pulled her backpack out from where it lay between her shins and plunked it into James lap.

The gaze was broken. "Oh, of course," Kate said, taking the bag from James.

"Thanks!" Laura exclaimed with a big smile. She nudged James' arm. "C'mon! I'm hungry!"

"Bye, Kate," James said quickly before putting the car into drive.

But Kate reached into the car and put a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, before you go," she said, smiling at him again, "are you coming to group tomorrow night?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

She finally withdrew. "Alright, see you then."

"See you," and he pressed his foot to the accelerator.

After a moment driving down the street in silence, the girls in the back seat burst into laughter. Laura frowned at them, and James sighed.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

James walked into the house for the second time that day. He shrugged off his brown jacket and sighed in relief at the quiet. It was much more pleasant than the never-ending conversations of five teenage girls in a car that just seemed to get more closed in as time went on.

Mary wouldn't have minded it, though.

James groaned at the thought when he realized he was staring at a picture of his late wife which had permanent domain on the side table in the living room. He needed a drink, he told himself abruptly. And at that unwanted thought, he shook his head and chastised himself. He was done with that. Especially with Laura in the house.

He decided to try to relax, and thus, a shower was in order. After tossing his jacket onto the couch, he went to the bathroom and turned on the tub faucet. Soon the water was to his liking and he pulled the switch that brought the showerhead to life.

It would be exactly five years soon, he thought as he undressed. It seemed like longer. Or shorter. He wasn't sure what it seemed like. The whole experience had been… surreal, to say the least. If it hadn't been for the scars that had persisted on his bruised skin, he might have been able to convince himself that it had never happened. But that wasn't exactly the point to the whole experience, was it? No, the point had been to learn the truth. Though he was sure that the town meant for him to learn the truth and then feed on his anguish, on his soul, as cheesy as it sounded now away from the darkness and the gore. But when he thought about it, he was fairly sure that that was what the town wanted, or rather whatever force was behind the place.

But he would rather not think about it at all.

He stood under the warm spray. It was comforting.

And the hand that brushed his back was alarming.

He almost slipped when he spun around, but he planted his hands on the tiled walls. His mouth fell open at the woman standing in the tub with him. Any other man would be intrigued with a strange woman in his shower. James Sunderland was horrified by the pink-tipped blonde hair that was sheared above her shoulders, the intent blue eyes that kept him frozen in his awkward prone position, the painted lips quirked up in a satisfied smirk. Maria's seductive expression on Mary's naked body, the naked body that she stole _stole_ **_stole_** from his wife and marked as her own with a dark butterfly on the hip.

This couldn't be happening. Maria was dead. No, more than that: she wasn't real. She was one of them, one of those monsters that had vanished once it was all over. She was ashen and scarred and upside-down in a cage, the long tentacle from between her legs whipping down and lashing around his throat.

He cried out when she stepped through the spray and crossed the little distance between them. The water plastered trails through her hair, over her face, down the curves of her body. It dripped from her arms as she raised them, pressing her palms against the tile on either side of his head. She moved still closer, and James, still terribly confused and terrified and disbelieving, made another noise of shock when her warm body pressed up against his. It could have been sensual if not for the disturbing, possessive glint in her close gaze.

"James." She whispered it against his mouth before covering it with her own.

("_James… James… James…"_)

And that's when James finally moved to strike at her. But his arms against the walls were all that held him up, and he fell, and his back hit the faucet. He screamed at the pain that jolted through his back. He recoiled from the faucet and into the spray, and then immediately looked up at Maria.

Except she wasn't there.

"Wh… what?" James stared up at the shower curtain. It didn't ruffle, and he knew it had never been opened. He reached around and gingerly touched the aching spot on his back. When he brought his hand in front of him again he watched blood wash away from his fingers. The faucet had cut him, and even though the water pattering the wound stung, he didn't think it was very bad.

Of course, he had bigger things to worry about.

James turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, then grabbed another towel and pressed it to his back. He walked out to the bed room and looked over his shoulder at the mirror, lifting the towel as he did so. "Jesus," he muttered at the sight of the bleeding scratch. "What the fuck?" he murmured at the memory of how he had gotten it.

No, no, he wasn't crazy. At least not anymore. At least that's what he told himself. But he couldn't be. Besides the occasional (and understandable) nightmare, he'd never felt such intense mental instability again since that day five years ago. He'd accepted what he had done, and the otherworldly mystique of that town had let him speak to Mary again, and she had understood. With her forgiveness, the madness exacerbated by Silent Hill had left him.

At least he thought so.

(_"Don't worry. I'm not crazy. Least, I don't think so…"_)

Maria wasn't real. She couldn't have been there, in his bathroom, in the goddamn shower with him. That was ridiculous. He must've been… stressed… or working too hard. Or something. It could have been that the anniversary of his last trip to Silent Hill was coming up. Yeah, that made sense. He had accepted, understood what he had done, but that didn't mean all his regret and guilt had vanished. If anything, it had festered in acknowledgement.

So it had to have just been his imagination.

Right?

Still pressing the towel to his back, James glanced at the clock, but knew he would find difficulty in getting sleep that night.

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Please review? 'Twould be super cooly awesome. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Konami owns all da SH stuff, yo.

**Author's Note:** And here we have chapter three. Rather surreal, but I hope it keeps your interest. The next chapter is pretty much done, so I might post it soon.

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C H A P T E R- T H R E E

She was proud of herself. She hadn't thought she had gained that much, not enough to make contact out of the town's borders. But she hadn't been able to maintain it for very long. It had been long enough, however, to realize something very important.

She wouldn't do for him. The look on his face plainly said it.

But Mary…

Mary. Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary.

What was wrong with her? Why wasn't she good enough? Hadn't she been everything he wanted after those years of pain and frustration and misery?

(_But I can be yours... I'll be here for you forever. And I'll never yell at you or make you feel bad. That's what you wanted. I'm different than Mary... How can you throw me away?_)

All he ever cared about was that damn Mary.

… She was the only person who could bring him back.

She was contemplative for a bit. Could she…? She had already gained much. She had regained her semblance of life. She had managed to reach out through the boundaries and see him. Perhaps it wasn't ludicrous. Silent Hill was, in a way, halfway there already.

She concentrated. She submerged herself in the force she gained, wrapped up within her, and could feel the borders of the town again. Before, she had pushed through, sought the mark the town had left on him. But this time, her goal was different.

She stretched, and this time sought a different boundary. She extended herself and moved up within the realm, until she felt a pressure that would let her go no further. And, like piercing a balloon with a pin, she put everything to one spot, so that it may break and she be let through.

But it did not give way.

So she concentrated harder, but then it was only more resilient. The more she focused on her goal, on how she absolutely needed it and despised it, the more she was forced away.

She let herself drift from the border for a moment, pondered another mode of action. And she realized that it had been her hate keeping her out. She pushed that down, and thought of other things, of her loneliness and how much she needed him, and if she could just have him with her again, everything would be alright. In fact, she felt something like love. And with that, she rose up again, she moved through the boundary as if it weren't even there.

And her goal was right there. It had been watching curiously, reluctant to leave even after all this time. It had wanted to help, help them all, but could do nothing for them, so all it could do was hopelessly remain behind

And then she had it, was wrapped around it, and all the sweetness and light reminded her of all the bitterness and pain, and immediately she was pulled back the way she came. But she was still wrapped around it, and thus it came with her despite its struggles.

Maria opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. Set on both palms was something like a lantern with a bright pink light. It glittered through the crystal around it, and was held inside by the metal bottom and ornately decorated lid. She could feel its fright and confusion.

Maria grinned.

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Reviews are much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Silent Hill 2 or its characters. Or anything else from SH that I may mention.

**Author's Note:** Posting up the next part. It's been ready for a long while, after all.

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C H A P T E R - F O U R

James was one of two people who still came to group after more than a year. The other person, surprisingly, outdid his five years by adding another two. Her name was Brenda, and she was one of the few people he felt he could speak to privately, though he only did so once in a while. He didn't socialize with her outside of group, just like he didn't make intimate friends with any of the others. And it bothered him that Kate was trying to rectify that.

The group leader, Paul, an older man of about fifty, took his seat at the head of the room as usual. Most of the others did likewise, pulling the old metal folding chairs into a ragged circle. Brenda sat amongst them. James and a few others took posts elsewhere. James sat on a table in the back of the room. A dreary-looking couple, new to the group, as James didn't recognize them, huddled together by the only window. A young man in his late teens reclined on the floor by the table.

Kate was the last to arrive with an apologetic smile to Paul at her lateness. Her smile brightened when she saw James and she immediately hopped up next to him on the table. He felt a bit uncomfortable, but didn't show it.

Paul leaned forward in his chair. "Welcome back, everyone." He looked around the circle, and glanced up at the people on the perimeter of the room. "Rob?" he said to the boy sitting on the floor, "are you comfortable there?"

"Yeah," replied the young man, folding his arms tightly over his chest.

"Alright." Paul gestured out to the room. "Would anyone like to start?"

The woman with her husband by the window spoke up immediately. "I… I, uh…" She looked to her spouse, but he stared out the window. She swallowed. "I'm Tracey. This is my husband, Carl." She smiled with appreciation at the chorus of hellos, and went on. "We're here because… um… a couple months ago our daughter… she… she, ah…"

Brenda nodded, but didn't smile. "It's okay."

Tracey swallowed again. "Our daughter, Melissa, killed herself a couple months ago. We didn't see it coming. She seemed so happy."

Carl spoke up then. His voice was brusque. "It's always the ones you never expect," he said bitterly. "The one's who do it for attention give you signs."

Tracey put a hand on his arm to stop him, but she nodded. "She wasn't as happy as we thought, I guess." Predictably, the tears began. "I always wonder what I did wrong!" she choked out before bursting into sobs.

Paul nodded sagely. After all, he had heard stories like this many times. "It is a painful thing to lose a loved one," he said softly. "That is why we are all here. Eventually you'll see that it was nothing you did to make Melissa take her own life. We all have to move on."

"How can you say that?" Tracey suddenly spat. Her expression went from grief to anger. "How can I just forget about my little girl! I failed her!" She gasped for air in between the tears. "I was supposed to protect her!"

"Falling into depression won't bring her back," James suddenly spoke up. He remained apathetic under Tracey's enraged stare. "I know you wanted to protect her, but you couldn't. It's too late now. There's nothing else you can do for her."

Tracey gaped at him. Then her mouth clamped shut and she wiped at her tears. "What do you know!" she snapped bitterly. In the next moment she froze and her expression returned to sorrow. She turned away from the group and hid in her husband's arms. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I'm being selfish."

Paul, always calm and understanding, said, "It's alright. Being angry is a natural thing. We all know you're upset. I will warn you that sometimes people here- people who've been here longer than you- will say things that will make you upset. But we are all trying to help."

"I'm still sorry," Tracey said, twisting in Carl's arms so that he embraced her from behind. She tried to smile at James despite her red, wet face. "It was ridiculous of me. Of course you all know how I feel."

Paul nodded. "Is there anything further you'd like to say?"

Tracey shook her head. Carl did the same, though he shot James a glare.

"Alright then." The group coordinator looked around the room, and his gaze fell upon Kate. "Kate, you haven't talked in a while. How have things been with Emily?"

The woman besides James shifted uneasily. "I.. uh… Well…" She glanced over at Tracey and Carl. "Well, my husband died about a year ago," she began for their benefit. "I was afraid Emily wouldn't be able to handle it and reject me or something." She laughed weakly. "But she's doing better than I am, I think, though she and I don't talk as much as we used to."

"Then how do you know she's dealing with it well?" someone asked.

Kate smiled at James. "She's told me that Laura helps her a lot, and I hear her talking with her sometimes. Laura is James' daughter." The last part was, again, to keep the new couple up to speed. "Laura just seems to always know what to say. And I think she keeps her from doing anything… destructive."

Tracey commented, "Well, I suppose they have the death of a loved one in common. They can support each other."

"Not exactly," Kate replied. "James' wife wasn't Laura's mother. Laura is adopted." She rubbed James' arm appreciatively. "You're raising her so well. She's helped Emily out so much."

"Well, Laura did know Mary," James pointed out. "Mary was planning on adopting her if she ever got better." He coughed. He didn't like talking much to the group. "But, ah, she didn't know my wife for too long, so I don't think she was as affected by her loss."

"You still adopted her?" Tracey smiled. "That's so sweet."

Paul brought the conversation back to Kate. "Though Emily should confide in a friend," he said, "you must be sure that she still trusts you with her feelings over her father's death."

Kate nodded emphatically. "I know. I've been setting aside time for us to talk or just spend time together. But, like I said," she smiled softly, "I think it's helping me more than it's helping her." She rubbed her arm. "Well, that's all I really have to say."

Paul nodded, then glanced around the room. His gaze fell again to the back, down by the floor. "Rob?" he raised his voice to be sure the boy heard him. "How have you been? Have you talked to your father lately?"

Rob looked up, then averted his eyes. "Yeah, I talked to him."

"And?"

"He's the same damn bastard."

"It was not a good conversation."

"Ha!" Rob smiled sardonically. "That shit about tragedy bringing people together is such b.s." He shook his head. "I don't know why I thought he would care more about Mom once she was dead, much less me."

"Your father is all you have, Rob," a person spoke up. "Now is a better time than any to try to make amends."

"He should be amending! Not me!" Rob snapped. "I didn't abandon us 'cause I couldn't hack it! Jesus. Fucking prick."

"Yeah," a woman agreed. "You know, he can't expect his father to change." She looked to Paul. "Instead of trying to reunite with people there's no hope for," she asked, "couldn't he just be more sociable? Join an art club or something?"

"Yes, that could help," Paul said. "But when we do something like that after losing someone, we have to be careful we don't cling too much to new friends. We become dependent on them, and the whole point of this group is lost." He looked at Rob. "Is there anything you're interested in?" he asked.

Rob shrugged. "I dunno," he muttered. "I don't feel like doing anything."

"Which is precisely why you should do something."

The young man sighed. "I guess… I could start a band… or something." He looked away. "I'm done."

The session continued for another hour or so, then Paul declared that it was time to leave. He set his post by the doorway, saying goodbye and well-wishes to each person, and telling them that they were perfectly welcome to the next session the following week.

Outside, Kate latched herself onto James' arm. "Would you mind walking me to my car?"

"Sure."

Kate worked at a diner near the community center. She often hurried over on foot after her shift had ended. And she often asked James to escort her back.

"You haven't talked much in group lately," she commented. She kept their arms linked as they walked down the street.

James shrugged. "I haven't had much to say."

"I suppose not. You've been going for a long time. I'm surprised you still go." She laughed. "Actually, I'm not," she amended, and her voice dropped to near-whisper. "Sometimes I think I'll never be able to forget him."

"You shouldn't forget him," James replied. He was unable to hide the stiffness in his voice, and she noticed.

"Oh, I didn't mean that!" she exclaimed, glancing up at him apologetically. "I mean, I won't be able to move on. I don't want to forget him. It's just the expression people use, you know?"

"Hn." James' eyes kept straight ahead, only flickering once to the left and to the right as they crossed a street.

She cuddled to his side and said, "I could never forget him." A pause. "And you'll never forget Mary."

"No." A beat. "Never."

"Maybe…" They made it to the lot. Kate's car was parked a few spots over from the entrance. The light from the diner flooded over them, shining on her hair and revealing the hope in her face as she continued. "Maybe we could help each other."

"Good night, Kate," James said, abruptly turning away.

"James, wait."

He turned around and she was standing right there. Before his mind could even entertain the thought that maybe he should kiss her, maybe he could move on like he promised Mary he would, Kate cupped his face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his. It lasted only a moment before she withdrew. She looked into his eyes and smiled abashedly. "I'm usually not _this_ forward," she said, "but since you obviously aren't going to make a move…"

"Kate--"

"Come to my house tomorrow night. I'll make you dinner."

He hesitated and glanced away. Her hands were still on his face. "I don't know."

"Please, James?" She tilted her head so she could regain eye contact. She succeeded. "We have to try to move on. Like Paul said, right?"

Like Paul said. Like Mary said. Like he said. "… Alright."

She looked so happy. She kissed him on the cheek before trotting to her car. She got in, started the engine, and drove away, offering a wave as she passed him.

All he could think of was Mary.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

James knew he had a visitor before he stepped into the house. The old beat pick-up parked along the curb was a truck he remembered from before he and Mary were even married. As he closed the front door, he went straight to the living room where he heard two voices.

"He's tooooo cute!" Laura happened to squeal as soon as James pushed through the swinging door. She held a calico cat tightly in her arms, and it nuzzled her shirt affectionately.

"I knew you'd like him," Frank Sunderland chuckled as he ruffled her hair. He sat in the armchair across from the television.

Laura frowned at the gesture, smoothing out the blonde strands with one hand while clutching the cat with the other, then grinned when she looked up at James. "Grandpa Frank got me a cat!" she exclaimed.

"Well, obviously," James replied. He sighed at his father. "Do you really think she can take care of a pet?"

"Hey!" Laura snapped. "I'm responsible."

James snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Now, now," Frank spoke up. "Laura is thirteen now. It's about time she learned some responsibility." He pointed to an assortment of things he'd set by the chair. "I've brought you everything you need anyway. Carrier, litter box and litter, food and bowls, and some toys."

"You didn't have to buy all this, Pop."

Frank laughed again. "This gift didn't cost me a penny. Some tenants moved out into a place that doesn't allow pets, so I told them I'd give Blotch a good home."

"Blotch?" Laura repeated.

Frank pointed to the dark areas of the cat's otherwise white and orange fur. "Yeah, he looks blotchy, you see?"

"I guess," Laura replied, setting Blotch down since he'd started to squirm. The bell on his collar jingled as he scratched behind his ear with his foot. Laura smiled. "Thanks, Grandpa."

"You're the one who's going to be cleaning that litter box, you know," James made a point of saying.

"Yeah, yeah."

Blotch looked up at James, as if just realizing he was there. He padded over the short distance and mewed, tapping at James' leg with a paw.

"What?" James asked, laughing.

"He wants you to pick him up, stupid," Laura replied.

"Hey, don't talk to your father that way," Frank said sternly before returning his attention to the cat.

Laura rolled her eyes at James. The corner of his mouth quirked up when he remembered the day her adoption had been finalized. She had told him straight out that she would never call him 'Dad.'

James gave in to Blotch's demand and picked him up. Blotch purred when James scratched him behind the ears. "Is he de-clawed?" he asked his father.

Frank nodded. "Only the front paws, though." He raised a brow at his son. "Where were you anyway?"

"At group," James said, looking down at the content feline in his arms.

"You still go to that, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Did you make kissy-faces with Ms. Brewett?" Laura spoke up, half-teasingly.

"Laura!" James glared at her.

"Who's Ms. Brewett?" Frank asked with a half-grin.

"No one," James muttered.

"She's my friend Emily's mom," Laura answered. "She goes to group too, 'cause she lost her husband in a car accident last year." She gestured to James. "She liiiikes him. A lot."

"Is she nice?" Frank prodded.

"Pop! Please!" James grumbled. He set Blotch down on the floor; the cat trotted back over to Laura and wound around her legs.

"I'm only asking," Frank chuckled.

"Laura, go set up the litter box somewhere," James said.

"Where?"

"I dunno. The basement, I guess. By the washer and dryer."

"Alright." Laura gathered the box, litter, liners, and scooper and disappeared through a door in the hallway. The cat followed her to the door, but remained behind, staring curiously down the stairs.

"So," Frank continued over Laura's descending footfalls, "what's her name?"

James sat on the couch by the armchair. "Her name is Kate, and it's nothing."

"Nothing, eh?" Frank replied, giving James a scrutinizing stare.

James squirmed after a few moments and then gave in. "She's making me dinner tomorrow, but after that I'm telling her I'm not interested," he insisted.

"She's pushy, huh?" He scratched his leg through faded jeans. "You'll probably have a hard time turning her down."

"No, I won't."

"Are you sure you _want_ to turn her down?"

"Pop!" James scowled. "I'm just not interested in dating again. Ever."

"You're still young, you know."

"You know, Pop, that I…" James swallowed hard and looked over at the blank television set. "You know that I'm never going to really get over Mary."

"I know," his father said. "You were always crazy about her."

"How're the Heights?" James asked abruptly, wishing for a change in subject.

Frank frowned but obliged him. "Nothing special going on."

James chuckled, suddenly remembering. "No strange children? Or men carrying tools?"

"That man was real, dammit," Frank replied somewhat abrasively. "And, no, I haven't heard Braintree hollering at some poor kid."

"That guy's a psycho," James said.

"Well, he pays his rent."

"Seriously, you oughta kick him out. Don't you remember what happened to what's-his-face? Mike?"

"Of course I remember, but can't do anything about it. Mike wouldn't come forward. Besides, that was so long ago. Nothing that bad has happened since then."

"Psycho," James reiterated.

"Speaking of that kid," Frank said. "Did I tell you that I got a new tenant for 302 a while ago? A journalist."

"Yeah? Did you tell him about what happened in there?"

"What's the use in telling that story? That bizarre story…"

James raised a brow. "If it weirds you out so much, I'd think you'd get rid of that... cord."

Frank fidgeted. "I've thought about it, but I just can't bring myself."

"Why not? Honestly, Pop, it's freaking weird."

"So you've always said." Frank thought for a moment. "I suppose it's a good reminder to myself how some people don't see worth in anything but themselves. And that's no way to be. You can't just throw away something so precious because it inconveniences you. Not all blessings make life perfect. So it just reminds me that I should be grateful for all the little inconveniences I have that make life worth living."

"Pop, it's an umbilical cord in a box."

"Well, when I die, you can happily throw it out."

"I will."

"Throw what out?" Laura said, reappearing from the basement. Blotch mewed once, and she picked him up.

"Nothing." Frank stood up and ruffled her hair. "I better get going. Can't leave those folks alone for too long without someone to bitch at."

James got up too and walked his father out the door. Laura followed, holding her new pet tightly so he wouldn't run off. James and Laura stood on the sidewalk as Frank climbed into his truck.

"Thanks again, Grandpa!" Laura chirped.

"You're welcome," Frank replied through the open window. He started the engine, but looked up again at James. "You think about giving that woman a chance, alright?"

"Pop!" James clapped a hand over his eyes.

"See you later." And Frank drove off.

Laura turned to James and smirked. "Guess I shouldn't have said anything."

James rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you feel real bad, you sadistic little brat."

She laughed and nuzzled Blotch's head, then trotted back into the house.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Hours later, he had managed to get Laura to go to bed. Or at least in her room with the cat. And then he went to his own bedroom door, but instead of going inside, he reached up and pulled a string that hung from the ceiling. The hatch opened, and he pulled down the wooden ladder. He turned on the electric lantern and brought it up the steps to the attic.

He settled in one of the few empty spots in the cluttered space and set the light at his side. The sturdy wood hope chest was right where he always left it. Always waiting for him.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" James muttered. He flipped open the clasps on the front of the old trunk. It had been Mary's grandmother's, he remembered, and his wife had loved the old thing. That was why he preferred it to be out of sight. He pushed up the lid and began to look through the things inside.

He glanced at two old mystery books Mary had begged him to read. He never had. He wasn't much for reading, no matter how much she insisted that this Harry Mason guy was a brilliant writer. As James set the books aside, an old memory filtered in. Hadn't the author disappeared in recent years? After some shooting? Eh, it didn't matter.

He rummaged through the chest. There was an old crocheted blanket and an unfinished cross-stitch. A well-worn cookbook. Her favorite pink cardigan. And at the very bottom was the scrapbook, always the end to his oh-so-pleasant walk down memory lane.

James turned the page to see their wedding photos, and his eyes settled on one particular picture of him and Mary standing beside a lake. But…

He was gone. There was only Mary, dress glaring red from the blood seeping from her mouth, eyes wide and bright and staring accusingly while her hand reached for him.

Immediately, he gasped and fell back on his rear. He kicked the trunk away, and it hit the wall and the scrapbook fell off it with a BANG that made him jump. He sat there, breathing hard for a few moments, then dared to crawl forward and peer at the scrapbook.

James looked at the picture again. Just him and Mary, happy on their wedding day by a local lake that many newlyweds used for pleasant wedding photographs. He clapped a hand over his mouth and made wet, strangled noise. What was happening to him? First that delusion in the shower, and now this picture? Was he going crazy again? He moved his hand away from his mouth and closed the scrapbook. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes. He needed a drink, desperately.

He opened his eyes. He curled his hands into fists, then grabbed the book and threw it back into the bottom of the trunk. As he piled Mary's other articles on top of it, he berated himself.

_No, you do not need a drink, goddammit. You've been sober for five years. You're not gonna give up now and become some drunken loser and disappoint Laura and make a mess of everything again. Mary. What would Mary think of that? She'd probably cry._

He closed the lid on the trunk and latched it shut. With a sigh, he rested his head on the chest.

("_Go on with your life."_)

How could she possibly have meant that?

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Mmmyup. There's Frank for ya, SaddenedSoul. I do believe he makes more appearances.

Please review if you liked it or not.


	5. Once upon a time 1

**Disclaimer:** There is no pwnage here. Waiiiiii.

**Author's Note:** Literary Alchemist helped me get around the uploading error fest that's been going on since last night (as far as I know). Guess the export function isn't as useless as I thought. Er, anyhow, here is the next part of Forgiveness! Yes, it's a flashback. Those of you reading Impaired may say, "My, you enjoy flashbacks, Gaia." And I'd say, "Yes. Yes, I do." Um.. yeah... read.

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- - - - - - - - 

**_(Once upon a time…) _**

Peter's dark hair went well with the stern look he gave his sister. "Next time, remember your crap so you don't have to hassle me," he said as he handed over a biology book.

Lori's own blonde locks accentuated her smile and the playful gratitude in her eyes. "Aw, but then I wouldn't be doing my job as your loving sis, would I?"

"You're lucky you're an only child, James," Peter said, rolling his eyes towards his friend.

James only smiled a bit, staying quiet as usual. Peter had said this often to him over their long friendship, and James was quite aware of how annoying having a younger sister would be. Lorie had happily proven it time and again with little shame; she even mischievously winked at James now, though for some reason when she glanced at the plain-looking girl beside her, her grin widened. Mary's long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she shifted from one foot to the other. Her head was tilted down at the ground, but her eyes looked up from beneath dark lashes at the lighter-haired boy.

"Hi, James," she said with a small smile stretching her pink, unpainted lips.

James looked back at her nervously. "Uh... Hey." He coughed into his fist for no reason.

The bell sounded then. "We gotta go!" Lorie exclaimed, unable to restrain a chuckle when she glanced at James again. "See you guys later!" She grabbed Mary's arm and pulled her toward the school.

"Bye, Peter! Bye, James!" Mary giggled as Lorie forced her to run to the double doors of the brick building.

James watched them hurry off. Or rather, he watched the brunette, and the whimsical way her long skirt swirled about her legs with a gust of wind.

"Holy shit, Sunderland," Peter laughed.

James blinked out of his stupor and looked over at his friend. "Huh?"

Peter nodded his head towards the girls pulling open the doors and smirked. "You got it bad."

James didn't say anything, but he could feel his face turn red. He couldn't help but glance over as her form vanished into the school.

Peter shrugged. "I can't blame you, though. She's a sweet girl." He chuckled and put an arm around James' shoulders. "Plus she's eighteen now, about to graduate. No one will make a fuss."

James frowned at Peter's expression. He shrugged the arm off of him and walked back towards the car.

Peter sighed and followed after him. "I didn't mean it like that, man!" He walked at James' side. "I'm just saying that if she wasn't eighteen, some people might think it was weird or something. Like statutory."

"I'm only four years older than her."

"Yeah, but you know how people are." Peter shook his head. "Anything to start something." He grinned again. "So I take it you _are_ gonna ask her out?"

James stared straight ahead. "Dunno."

Peter guffawed. "Oh, please! You're gonna." He patted him on the back. "My sister can give you her number. Or you could come with me when I pick her up from some party tonight. Mary'll be there."

James hesitated. "I… I don't know."

They had reached the car and Peter opened the driver's seat. He looked at James over the top of the car and sternly said, "Look, Sunderland, as long as I've known you, you've had one steady girlfriend for, like, two months, and as far as I know you've only dated two other girls. You need to fuckin' branch out. Especially since, like I said: You. Got. It. Bad."

"Shut the hell up, Peter," James grumbled as he got in the passenger side.

Peter slid into his seat and closed the door at the same time James closed his. "I'm just saying, is all!" He turned the ignition. "Jesus Christ, I always gotta push you to do anything you wanna do." He looked over at James. "Am I taking you home or to work or anything? Or do you wanna come with me to run some errands for my mom?"

"I told my dad I'd help him out with some apartment stuff. But we'll hang out some more later, alright?"

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It was alright. Peter picked James up at seven and they went to see a movie at the cinema uptown. Afterwards, Peter looked at his watch and said that they might as well head over to the party early, seeing as they had nothing better to do. It wouldn't be too much of a problem, as they both knew the brother of the girl holding the party.

James wasn't too fond of the idea regardless, though. Who wanted to be those weirdoes that hung out with high school kids, like those losers who used drugs and alcohol as tricks of the trade on underage girls? Ugh.

It was May, and Peter had just finished his undergraduate years at college. If he weren't going on to grad school in the fall, he'd probably have a job like James did. James had just gotten a new job, as a matter of fact, as a mail clerk at a small company uptown. These details were some assurance to James that he was not turning into some drunken creep.

Well, at least he was withstanding the creep part, he amended as Peter handed him a red plastic cup of beer. "This party is awesome!" Peter said. "Let's hang out for a little bit, okay?"

James had to struggle to hear him over the music. "Whatever!" he shouted back. "I'm going outside!"

"What?"

"Outside!"

"WHAT?"

James just rolled his eyes and squeezed his way out to the front porch. He took a deep breath of the cool fresh air and blinked at the dim quiet street, which he found much more appreciable than the raging music and lights of the house.

"James?"

"Huh? Oh." James had looked over to the other side of the deck and saw Mary sitting on the swinging bench.

"Hi," she said, quietly. She had a beer in her hand. It was mostly full.

James, drawing up a bit of nerve, closed the distance between them and sat down next to her. "Nice party, huh?"

She smiled shyly at him. "I guess."

He chuckled. "Yeah, it sucks. I hate these things."

She laughed. He loved the sound. "Lorie asked me to come. She wants me to loosen up, I guess." She raised the beer to him. "This isn't helping."

James looked down at his own cup. "Yeah, it tastes pretty damn awful." He looked over at her, then stared at anything else. "You… uh… don't seem like the kind of girl who goes to these things much."

She placed her cup off to the side. "My aunt would kill me if she knew I was here." She clasped her hands together and pressed them into her lap. "I told her we were seeing a movie. She expects me home not too late." She ducked her head. "Yeah, a curfew, I know. I'm like a kid, I guess."

James smiled. "She just cares about you, is all."

"Lorie says she and Pete never really had one. I don't suppose you did either."

"Well, no… but it's no big deal."

She laughed a bit, and it was plain that she had trouble believing him. She started swinging the bench back and forth a bit. "I can't wait to get out of that house."

"You going to college?"

Mary stared out at the street. "My aunt wanted me to, but… I never really saw myself getting a degree in anything, so I never applied." She chuckled. "She was furious when she found the applications still in my desk."

James raised an eyebrow at her. "Well… what are you gonna do?"

"Lorie's not going anywhere either, and her mom is gonna get her job at the office she works at. She says she can get me an interview too. It'll be just filing at first, but I guess that's fine with me."

"There's nothing you'd rather do?" James asked skeptically.

She glanced over at him and then she looked away. He couldn't tell if she was blushing in the lack of light. "Well, I… Nevermind."

"Oh, you can't do that! Now you have to tell me."

Her eyes flickered to him again, and he was sure she was blushing now. She turned more towards him and looked down at her lap. "All I've really wanted to do is just be a housewife and mother."

James couldn't help staring at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really."

"Wow."

"Yeah, used to be a woman getting a career was radical. Now if she wants to stay at home, holy cow, right?"

"Well, I guess. I don't see anything wrong with it, though. I mean, it's your choice."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, that's what I think too. But my aunt, jeez, you'd think I was personally setting back the women's movement fifty years…" Mary trailed off, peering at the street. A car was moving towards the house. "Hey, that looks like--"

"Shit!" James hissed, clumsily dropped his cup onto the porch. Beer spilled over the wood, but he didn't care. He grabbed her arm and dragged her inside the house.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked, bewildered at his quick action.

"Somewhere where we won't get arrested," he said quickly. He spotted Peter nearby. "Pete!" he yelled over the music. "Get going!"

By the look on his face, Peter immediately knew why James was so anxious and he purposely squeezed through the crowd, probably to get his sister. James pushed through the throngs of people all the way to the kitchen in the back of the house and pulled open the back door. Someone at the front of the house started yelling about the cops, and James pulled Mary outside and out of the way of the door before they could get trampled. Her hand tightened in his; he could tell she was frightened. She'd never been in a situation like this before. He just led her through the yard as other people spilled out of the house, many sprinting ahead towards the fence. It was only about three feet high, and a couple hopped it, but the more inebriated tumbled over it.

Peter was suddenly there with Lorie as James and Mary reached the fence. "Fuckin' dumb drunks!" he growled, before kicking at one of the fence's posts. He forced his weight down, and the whole fence fell over with a clatter.

"Peter!" Lorie snapped.

"Shut the hell up and run!" Peter snapped, throwing a glance at James to say the same was meant for him.

With sudden loud shouts from the house, no one in the back yard needed to be told twice. James tightened his grip on Mary's hand and they ran over the fence, into the next back yard, and around the side of the house in front of it to the street. Everyone was scattering. James followed Peter and Lorie who took off into the woods across the road.

"We got runners!" a deep male voice yelled. But it was far off, probably in the party house's backyard.

And they were in the woods now. It wasn't a big forest by any means; just a substantial patch of trees behind Carter Avenue. Beyond it was the local pond by the elementary school. But that was a ways off; about a fifteen minute walk. And walking they were, though briskly. It was difficult to run with the uneven terrain and thickly camped trees. Mary stumbled once in a ditch hidden by a patch of leaves, but James was still holding her hand and was able to hold her up. Peter and Lorie were only a few feet ahead of them, and James could see two others up ahead and hear people following behind them. He figured they weren't cops since there were no flashlights. The only light came from the moonlight filtering through the thickly-leaved branches.

They finally stopped when the trees thinned out and they could see the pond and the neighboring school. Peter turned around and peered into the trees. He visibly relaxed. "I think we're good," he said.

The four wound up in a small playground by the school. The others who had gone through the woods decided not to stick around.

Lorie fell back into a swing. "Holy crap!" she gasped out. "We woulda been in deep shit!"

"You!" Peter snapped. "Do you know how bad _we_ woulda been in trouble in a house of drinking minors?"

Lorie grinned cockily. "Well, you didn't have to be there, did ya?"

Mary sat on a swing next to Lorie. "I wouldn't have gotten out of there if they weren't!" she pointed out, smiling at James. "I didn't know what to do when the cops came down the street."

Lorie gaped at her. "You run in the house and tell us!"

"I know that now!"

James sighed. "We won't be able to get Peter's car for a while. I don't know if the cops saw my face or not."

Peter blew a strand of black hair out of his face. "Dammit," he muttered. Then he chuckled. "That fucking fence."

Lorie was not amused. "I hope no one realizes you did it. I don't want Shelley in my face on Monday."

Mary suddenly laughed. "Oh, man! I never thought that I'd ever have to run from the cops!"

James grinned. "You're a regular felon now."

She looked at him then, excited and face beaming, and though there were butterflies flapping around in his stomach, James didn't look away.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

"James! Stop!" Mary tried to sound serious, but couldn't help laughing as she was pushed higher and higher.

"Nah," he replied breezily. "I think you need to go higher."

"Ahh! Ha ha!" Mary was closing her eyes now, partially-terrified and partly thrilled.

Lorie and Peter exchanged a glance at the two's interaction. Lorie looked down at her watch. "It's, like, almost twelve-thirty. When do you think Mom will start flipping out?"

"What?" Mary suddenly exclaimed. "What time is it?"

At the panicked sound of her voice, James stopped pushing the swing. He instead started to snag it occasionally so it would stop.

"It's twelve-thirty," Lorie said, as Mary swung back and forth with a horrified expression.

"Oh, no!" Mary exclaimed. "I'm late! Aunt Deirdre wanted me home by now!"

James managed to stop the swing entirely. "Well, we'll have to start walking, I guess."

Peter gestured at the woods in the direction of the house they'd run from nearly an hour earlier. "Let's check if it's clear first," he suggested. "We can get the car."

James shook his head. "It's too soon, man." That may or may not have been a lie, and James gave Peter a look that said so. The dark-haired boy stared at him for a minute, then he suppressed a grin and nodded.

"Yeah," Peter said, "would probably be faster if you started walking now. You want me to pick you up somewhere, man?"

James shook his head. "Nah." Mary shifted from one foot to the other impatiently, a deep crease of worry across her forehead. He smiled at her. "C'mon."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

As they walked, Mary relaxed and fell into easy conversation with him. She told him about school and her aunt, and he talked about his new job and his father. James didn't know who had grabbed the other's hand, but their fingers were linked and their hands swung between them as they strolled down the street. James couldn't stop smiling the whole time. He felt warm all over, and he wished that the sidewalk and the night just stretched on forever. If he could have anything, he decided, it would be the power of forever, the ability to will the moment into permanency.

"This is my house," Mary said, stopping.

James stopped too and looked up at the humble two-story, and his smile finally started to fade. The only light was from the front porch. "Looks like no one's awake. You're safe."

"I hope so," Mary said. "Aunt Deirdre trusts me, so I guess she went to bed before twelve."

"You'll just have to be quiet then," James said, looking down at her.

She looked up at him, then suddenly blushed fiercely. "Thank you for walking me home, James. And keeping me out of trouble." She smiled and let go of his hand.

He stopped her before she could walk away. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. "Good night, Mary."

She giggled, her face a bright red. Seeming to muster a great courage, she returned his kiss, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Good night!" she whispered before hurrying up the front walk and to the door. She noiselessly used the key and slipped inside, glancing back only once with a look of pure giddiness.

James stood in front of the house for a moment or two. Then he set off for home, smiling again.

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Please review and let Madame Faye know if this sucks or what. The reviews say y'all are enjoying it, though. Wee! 


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. NOTHING!

**Author's Note:** Well, it's been... uh... a month since I updated this. Wow. I feel bad, 'cause this chapter is short. Um, sorry?

Thanks to Literary Alchemist, as usual.

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C H A P T E R – F I V E

_**Oh, God.**_

The Lakeview Hotel.

_**No… not this one again…**_

He stood on the dock and stared up at the third floor. At the left balcony.

Room 312.

And he walked up the path, past the fountains, up the stairs, and into the hotel.

_**Don't go in there!**_

The lobby was dim, but the music box played on. Its clanging melody was incessant. He could hear it even when he left the lobby.

There were no locked doors this time. But that made it all worse, because this time he didn't want to go up there. Yet he was walking.

**_Dammit! Stop!_**

Up the stairs. Up up up to the third floor, over over over to the one door.

_3-1-2_, he read from the metallic plaque on the dark wood, and his hand grasped the knob.

_**Please…**_

One twist and a push and the hinges swung the door open. He stepped inside and it swung shut again.

And here is where he would find her, as deformed and wretched as he'd seen her before smashing that pillow over her face and holding it down down down as she flailed.

But here is where he finds her, looking absolutely perfect.

And his thoughts are with his body again, as if he's been jolted awake.

But he is still in Room 312, and she is still standing there.

(_She is an angel._)

The room feels so warm. It's so… nice. And she is so beautiful.

"Mary!" And he moves toward her, arms reaching out, because this is no longer a dream.

Yet she steps back, arms wrapped around herself, as if she's afraid she'll run into his arms. "James…"

He is perplexed by her hesitance. "Mary," he says again, and steps forward.

She shakes her head and moves away from him. "James, don't come and get me."

There is a hideous whispering in the room. James looks around for the source, and it is only when he looks back to Mary that he sees her cringing. "Mary, what--"

She shakes her head and shouts, "No!" She clutches her ears.

James is before her in two quick strides and attempts to embrace her, to comfort her, but she sees him coming and ducks out of the way. "Mary!" he exclaims in disbelief. "Why won't you let me touch you!"

The whispering is still rampant in the air. Mary starts to cry. "No, James, stay away! Don't come and get me!"

James stares at her. Then something clicks and he asks, "Where are you?"

She gapes at him in horror. "No!" she screams. "STAY AWAY!"

But James was never a smart one. And James will always be weak when it comes to Mary. If only others could be as unlucky to be so in love. "You're at the hotel? You're really there this time?" he persists.

She cries out in anguish at the hope in his eyes. "No!" she shrieks again. "You have to stay away!"

"Mary…"

And it's hopeless. She knows that. James will always be there for her, especially because of when he wasn't. It doesn't matter that she's forgiven him. Any chance to redeem her will always come first. She turns away, and the whispering has turned to snickering now. The tears flow faster as he walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her defeated form. "I used to love it here!" she wails.

And then it is over, and she and the room are gone.

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Please review. 


	7. Once upon a time 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Silent Hill. I am not making any money. Yup.

**Author's Notes: **Long wait for the update, but I've got two new parts! Woo!

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_**(Once upon a time…)**_

James held the door open for Mary and she slowly stepped into the house. He closed the door, and when he looked back at her she was gazing around the kitchen, like she was trying to find some comfort in their familiar life. She brushed her fingers against the leathery, stretched red patch on her cheek.

"_We believe Mary is afflicted with a severe case of scleroderma."_

She turned to him, and the look on her face was so vague. He could tell she was trying not to break down. He wanted to say something to her, but could think of nothing. He smiled instead, hoping it was encouraging. He moved behind her and helped her out of her jacket.

"_It's rare at her age."_

He hung their coats on the rack on the wall and turned back to her. There was still nothing to say. She looked up at the ceiling or God or maybe nothing. He took a step forward to embrace her just as she took a step forward to the floating cabinets.

"_It's affecting her esophagus, which is why she has trouble breathing."_

She opened one of them and took out a glass, then moved over to the sink. She filled it halfway, hand trembling. She raised it to her lips, but her hand still shook and the glass fell, shattering on the floor.

"_We believe that over time it will progress into her lungs."_

She buried her face in her hands and he stepped forward again, putting his arms around her. She remained still for a moment before breaking away and heading to their bedroom, stumbling once.

"_We've actually never seen an instance of scleroderma quite like this."_

James gathered up the shattered pieces and soaked up the water with a dozen paper towels. He opened the cabinet and picked another glass.

"_On Monday we'll start her treatment."_

He held the glass under the tap and turned on the water. He stared out the window above the sink. The liquid rose, quarter full, half full, to the top, and then overflowed, trickles of ice sliding over his hand. It shook him back to the present and he turned off the faucet.

"_Overall, we think she has a good chance."_

James brought the glass to their bedroom. Mary was curled up on the bed, crying.

He held her all night.

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Woe... I dunno if Mary really had scleroderma. It's a theory anyway. 


	8. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I write for love, not money, maaaaan.

**Author's Note: **Reminder: This is a TWO-PART UPDATE! So if you went right to the last chapter, you'll wanna move back one and read the interlude first! Enjoy.

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C H A P T E R – S I X

He had to go back.

There was little question in James' mind about whether or not the dream was real. It had been Mary. It was indisputable from the moment he put his arms around her. And her tears, the sinister voice, the dream's abrupt end, it all said that she was in danger. He knew it was a trap.

But it didn't matter.

("_I guess I really don't care if it's dangerous or not. I'm going to town either way."_)

James flipped through the phone book until he came to an entry in Laura's careless handwriting, the letters striking beyond the printed lines. He dialed the number and waited two rings before a cheerful voice greeted him with "Hello?"

"Kate?"

"James!" Kate exclaimed on the other end of the line. "Are you on your way?"

She sounded genuinely pleased that he had called her, and he felt a twinge of regret for disappointing her. But he had more important things to worry about. "No, Kate. I'm sorry."

"Oh?" Her voice was immediately apprehensive. She knew what he was going to say. But convention of conversation had him go on.

"I won't be making it."

"Oh…

"Yeah, something important has come up, and I'm busy right now."

"Well," she said, sounding hopeful, "we can always reschedule--"

"I'm sorry, Kate," James interrupted, closing his eyes. "I think it's all just… just not a good idea."

There was a pause, and when she spoke again she sounded mildly irritated. "James, I don't understand why you can't just give me a chance. You can't just be alone like this forever. I'm not saying that something more _has_ to develop, but--"

"I'm sorry." He hung up the phone and returned to his room. An open backpack, mostly filled, sat on his bed.

James went through the bag again. He pulled everything out and laid it on his bed, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten. He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at the items for a few minutes, and then he finally pulled his hands roughly through his hair and set about putting everything back into the backpack.

The first item was the radio. But that wouldn't go in the bag. He would leave it at the old pack's side so he would remember to attach it to his jeans pocket. Not that he thought he could forget. The static of the old radio was something he could _never_ forget, not with what the noise signified.

The next item, that would go directly into the pack, was a complete map of Silent Hill he'd found on the internet. Granted, it was old, predating the vacation he and Mary had taken there, but the streets looked the same. He doubted the town changed much at all. There was no one there to alter it. Those old construction sites were probably still there. He frowned, recalling how hard the map had been to find, even online. A search for just the town of Silent Hill hadn't called up much of anything. He thought about all the rumors he'd heard. He focused on packing again; he didn't need to discourage himself further.

He'd managed to break the pocket flashlight he found on the mannequin in the apartments, so he made do with a household one. It wouldn't be as efficient since it wasn't hands-free, but it was better than nothing.

James had put various other things in the pack too, like gloves, a hammer and a few other tools, batteries, some food, but he couldn't help but feel silly doing it. Just the idea that you could _prepare_ to go into Silent Hill and you'd come out okay was ridiculous.

He wished he had a gun. He didn't think it was a good idea to have one in the home, though, especially with Laura in the house. There was certainly no time to go buy one. If he had known before that he would be going through all this again, he would have bought a few dozen.

James zipped up the pack and looked at the clock: seven o'clock in the evening. He planned to leave early the next morning, and he knew he needed sleep. But he wouldn't get it by himself. He left the room and went to the bathroom. He rummaged for the sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet, and when he found the bottle, slipped a couple pills into his palm. He turned and jumped when he saw Laura standing in the doorway, holding Blotch and glaring at him.

"What is up with you?" she demanded. "I saw that bag in your room. You going somewhere? Why didn't you tell me?"

James didn't look at her. He filled a miniature paper cup from the tap, tossed the pills into his mouth, and chased them with the water. He crumpled the cup and let it fall into the small trash bin. Without a word or a glance, he nudged Laura out of the way and walked back to his room.

But she was never one to be brushed off. She had her foot in his door before he could shut it. "Where are you going?"

This was why he couldn't have left earlier. Laura would have noticed, and being how she was, she would've followed him. But tomorrow was Monday, and she would be at school.

"I'm just going away for a day." A thought whispered to him, and he amended, "A day or so. Not very long, I don't think. It's a company thing."

"… For the _mail room_?"

He really had to stop underestimating her. "Yes, for the mail room. Isn't your show on or something?"

"The stuff you packed isn't for some 'company thing'." She put the cat down and folded her arms, looking up at him defiantly.

"You know what, Laura?" he said irritably. "It's really none of your business, okay?"

She took offense at this; her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "The hell it's _not_ my business!" she snapped. "Why would you spring some lame business trip on me the day before? I dunno where you think you're going, but I'm going with you."

He laughed. "No, you're going to school. And I know you're going to school, because that's where I'm taking you tomorrow morning."

She didn't have anything to say to that, and after glaring at him stubbornly for nearly a minute, she huffed and stalked from the room. Blotch looked up at James, yawned, and padded silently after her.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

He was so nervous that two hours later the pills didn't have much of an effect. He was heading back to the bathroom cabinet when he passed Laura's room and could just hear her voice behind the door:

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

She said it every night, though once in a deep discussion (a rare thing between the two of them), she had admitted to James that she wasn't exactly sure what she believed in. Her time at the nun-run orphanage had influenced her of course, but she said she didn't think much of it. The nightly prayer was more out of habit than anything, she said.

But listening to her now, her voice told him that it was a comfort.

He wished God could help him.

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(waggles fingers hypnotizingly) You like reviewing, don't you? Yes, you do... 


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